Dear Koutarou

The Garden

If I ever see you again, would you be crying just as much as her, I wonder. I honestly hope you don't, but if you do, I might as well cry beside you.

I'm clearly weaker than both of you combine.

For now, I suppose I should start recounting from how we met.

APRIL 20TH. ' I'm clearly weaker than both of you combine ,' came Keiji's voice in Bokuto's head. The older male was having a hard time believing that, shaking as he held the battered notebook with his right hand.

With his left, he lifted his sleeve to his face to wipe the trails of the fallen tears, only to find himself wetting his cheeks again moments later, putting all effort wiping and drying them to waste.

Bokuto kept reading on.

FEBRUARY 16TH. Bokuto arrived at the venue ten minutes before the ceremony started. Kuroo was waiting by the parking lot, arms crossed and a foot tapping to a beat Bokuto didn't keep track of. As soon as Bokuto stepped out of his second-hand sedan, he'd shot him a glare and said, "I thought we agreed on meeting at the studio by noon."

"My bad, my bad," Bokuto apologized with a quick dip of the head. He clapped Kuroo on the shoulder once before letting the taller male lead them to the reception.

"Sleeping in this late," Kuroo mused, "is unhealthy. You should get that checked."

"It's fine, I swear." Bokuto wasn't sure if he had looked anywhere near convincing, much less, sound like it, but he's done what he could and Kuroo had already decided to drop the topic by readjusting his watch. "It's cool that you hadn't changed the hairstyle."

"Shut up, you look like a dork with your hair groomed so formally."

And with that, the two of them had fallen into a short-lived silence that they both had broken by chuckling.

Never did Bokuto think that they'd get all prettied up for an event like this for work. He hasn't worn a tux in so long, and neither has he ever fixed his hair combed and gelled to the right in the tidiest way he could have done it. Bokuto was almost proud of his new look, but then again, he had no intention of getting used to that.

For all Bokuto knew, he was going to do field work at a garden wedding, and the venue certainly did not disappoint. An expanse of grass stretched out towards the large semi-circular mouth of a grove said to be enchanted when fireflies flew out and about by night. And in the center of it all were rows of rented Monobloc chairs clad in white cloths held with yellow ribbons behind an altar with a cross carved in.

A few meters behind that were tables – most were circular by plane, and about four were rectangular and adjoined to hold the food and the gifts for the newly-weds. Bokuto spotted a chocolate fountain he'd definitely go and check out after the ceremony with Kuroo.

Guests were already dominating the area, dressed as fanciful as they could get. The ones who weren't trying to socialize were already claiming their seats and fixing their hair or reapplying their make-up.

February afternoons were neither too cold nor too hot in Tokyo, the ambience calming with the grey clouds blanketing the sky as far as the eye could see. Bokuto had been looking forward to spring the most, and when Kuroo brought up that this wedding was to take place in February, a part of him didn't feel like going at all.

If Kuroo hadn't called to remind him about work, he never would have come.

"Bokuto, he's over there."

APRIL 8TH. When his eyelids grew heavier, he remembered to switch the lights off; Akaashi closed the notebook and took in the darkness of his bedroom with a long sigh. They would have to come to the hospital by daybreak, and there was about less than an hour before then. He fell back on his bed, staring at what should have been the ceiling, his thoughts glued to the notebook he had placed on his chest.